Merry Christmas Edward
by aimlessly wandering
Summary: Three months of pain. Three months of solitude. Three months without her. How does Edward spend his Christmas without Bella and without his family? First FanFic, sorry if the summary sucks, please R&R!


**A/N: Yay! First Fan Fiction! I know this has been done by every author and their mom, but I'd still appreciate some feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome, please don't be rude though, I'm new to this after all. : )  
**

**Enjoy!**

**PS Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

Merry Christmas Edward

I was sitting in a dingy motel room. The fluorescent lights flickering every few seconds. Snow was falling in a flurry outside my window but I didn't really see it.

I hadn't really seen anything for months now. What did it matter, any of it? Without her, every experience was dull. No, more than that, it was painful. Everything brought with it searing memories.

I didn't want to remember anymore, so I focused on the thoughts around me, flurrying like the countless snowflakes outside the window.

_I hope the kids aren't too upset with me being away from home…_

…_Does Teresa like red? Jesus, why don't I pay attention…_

_Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…_

_I hope Santa can find us all the way out here…_

I really must have been out of it; apparently it was Christmas. Christmas was a time for family, for giving, for…love. Something I had given up and would never receive again.

I growled in frustration. Other people's thoughts obviously were not helping me to forget. Exhausted from the constant pain that racked my entire being, I needed to get away. I got up and walked to the door, throwing it open into the freezing night.

I ran. I don't know for how long or how far I ran, I just let myself go. I knew it was senseless, and childless, cowardly even, but I could not face myself anymore. It was after all my own decision to end all possibility of any real happiness for myself.

For myself, but not for her. I stopped, having found a clearing in the forest I had been racing through. She _would_ be happy, she had to be. She would grow up, find a man, a human man, that she could love, who could love her, the way she deserved to be loved.

_But could anyone love her the way she deserved to be? Could anyone possibly be good enough for her?_ The cruel voice in the back of my head nagged at me. I knew the answer though.

_No._

Not even I could give her that, I was sure that no person, living or dead, damned or not, could ever be good enough for the angel I had left in Forks. But she could still be happy, and safe. She could have a life, have a family and children.

I couldn't help it; I dropped to my knees at the thought of her happy with another man. I knew it was right but it horrified me. The idea of another man's hands touching her beautiful face, his eyes enveloped in her warm chocolate ones, her cheeks filling with that divine blush. I was about to tear my hair out at the thought.

I wanted to scream, to shout, to yell. I wanted to do something that could relieve the pain that was crushing me. I knew though that none of those things would stop the pain, only one thing could, and it was the one thing I could never do again. At least not in reality.

So I did the one thing I could. I dreamed. I lay down in what I supposed was the icy snow, and closed my eyes. I knew that no comforting blanket of sleep would overcome me, that no real dreams would overtake me, but nevertheless I tried.

I was in our meadow. The sun, always so elusive in Forks, shining down on me. The warmth that I could not really feel spread throughout my body. I opened my eyes and was unsurprised to see that I was not alone. I thought my still heart would burst at the forged image of my angel, my sweet, delicate, breakable angel.

She sat there, in all her unsuspecting glory, smiling down at me. There was no accusation, no judgment, no horror in those chocolate pools. There was only acceptance, and love. Pure love was radiating from her eyes, and here, here in my convoluted little game of pretend, I could believe that it was meant to be that way. I could believe that I was worthy of such love.

I couldn't hurt her in this fantasy, so I held her with every ounce of my strength. I clung to her, afraid of what I would feel if I let go of her. As I buried my face in her long mahogany hair, I felt and smelled the blood pool in her cheeks as she blushed, but I had no urge to taste it. I needed nothing more than this. I felt no thirst, no burning in my throat, I could taste no venom rushing to my mouth, everything was right.

"I love you, more than anything and everything in this world. You are my life, my soul, the reason I exist. Without you, what purpose does my sham of a life hold? I am on this Earth in order to fulfill one purpose, to love you with everything I am," I whispered this into her warm, thick hair.

I pulled back to gauge her response, to get lost in her wide eyes, but suddenly my arms were empty. I could no longer feel her warmth, smell her blood, hear the erratic beat of her heart as I touched her. I began to panic and look around. Our meadow was no longer warm and bright, but cold, white, and desolate. There was nothing left there for me. This was the truth, this was my new life, and I could not hide from it in my fantasies.

I sighed and opened my eyes. Yes, this frigid, dead forest was the perfect symbol for my situation. What had once been full of life, almost ostentatious in its declaration of youthful love, was now devoid of any warmth.

It was then that the desolation of my new path hit me. I had been right in my dream, without her near me I had no reason to carry on. Why shouldn't I just end the pain? I was certain that whatever awaited me after this façade of a life was better than the constant throb of my still heart.

Who knew, maybe Carlisle was right, and there was more than eternal suffering in this or the next world. Perhaps, if there were, whoever was in charge would take pity on me and deliver the only part of my life that ever mattered to me when her time came. If we could not be together as we were now, then maybe there was a chance that there was another way.

I had thought like that countless times, perhaps even whispered a prayer or two that Carlisle was right, but I knew I could never sacrifice myself in that way as long as she still lived. If there was even the slightest chance she could be hurt, I could not move on.

That was why I was there, in the middle of nowhere. I had been attempting to track Victoria, to make my angel safe. It had not been going well.

The reason I was alone, in a physical sense, away from a family that loved me and told me continuously that I would be all right or tried to convince me day after day to go back to her, in Alice's case, was a scent. I wasn't even entirely sure that it was Victoria's scent, but I could leave nothing to chance.

Being separated from my family was not really a punishment. It was better this way, for both parties. I did not have to listen to their constant support and attempts to cheer me, whether spoken aloud or mumbled in their thoughts, and they did not have to watch me slowly crumble to dust.

I realized that if it truly was Christmas Eve, or thereabouts, I needed to call Esme and Carlisle. They did not need to be hurt further by my actions.

Sighing again and lifting myself off of the ground, I knew there was nothing more for me here. There would be no dreams, no fantasies. I could only face the harsh reality, no matter how much I did not want it.

Back in the motel room I stared at the small black piece of plastic in my hands. Perhaps it would be nice to hear my mother's voice, soothing and placating. Or even my large brother's, booming with laughter. I tried to smile at the thought, to honestly hope I could be happy, if for only a few seconds over the phone.

I knew I was lying to myself. There was only one voice I could ever want to hear again, yet cruelly I also knew that it was the one that I could never allow myself to hear.

Avoiding the inevitable, I listened to the thoughts surrounding me again. Only one person's thoughts stood out this time in the sea of garble. They were those of a little girl, probably referring to a brother or maybe even a stuffed animal, but they still managed to shatter my heart.

_Merry Christmas Edward._

I looked at my phone, and as I tapped in the numbers I murmured,

"Merry Christmas, my angel."


End file.
